I
by Cassie Jamie
Summary: Someone on SeaQuest is thinking...


I chris and steph chris and steph 1 41 2001-10-28T12:33:00Z 2001-10-28T13:14:00Z 1 computers suck 1 1 9.4402 

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.  I'm not using this for money.  Yatsa, Yatsa, and Yatsa.

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I

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            "One's decent to hell is easy.  Simply put, you slowly stop caring about everything and everyone.  That would be exactly what happened to me.  I just stopped caring.  Nothing mattered anymore.  Nothing made any sense.  It was confusing and frightful and every other sickening emotion one could have.

            "It was my only solace.  Just a little bit and the world didn't matter.  Hell, the world didn't even exist.  There was it and me.  Sometimes it was just me.  It was comfort.  It was a chance to not remember the life I had to live everyday to replace the life I couldn't, and still can't, let some people know about.

            "Pain is something I'm used to.  I've had my share and then some.  Physical, mental, emotional.  Bones break and heal all over again, but you never overcome those damn memories.  They're always there.  I'd hoped they'd at least fade, like the scars that cross my body like the latticework of a fence, but they didn't – they got stronger.  So much so that I still react to some people and their behavior.  I can tell those who are like me – I can see it in their eyes.

            "I've managed to hide though.  I managed to convince the UEO that I lived a normal childhood.  I've kept it Westphalen and Bridger – I trust them, but I won't let them know.  Few people know.  Those unfortunate souls on this godforsaken sub who lived the same horrors as I.  Then again, not many can know because if I make the mistake to tell, then I'd be forced to break the trust of the others.  And that's all we have now – trust.  It's rare to us, and it is never with a person who isn't like us.  You can never trust them.  They are all liars, cheaters, and stealers.  To blend in, one must do all those things, but it is a foreign role to me.

            "On this boat, quiet is, unfortunately, in abundance.  Quiet and privacy.  Some of us need the noise.  WE need the loud music and banging tools and the chatter of people talking about petty fights.  The hum of the ship and the soft backwash of water flowing are too quiet, too soothing.  Sleep is as unwelcomed as the memories, but then again sleep brings the memories, and, well, this ship is not the best place for us because of that.

            "Darwin knows everyone of us.  We've bonded together, formed our own little support group.  Every night we meet up at the moon pool.  It's a place that we find solace in.  We can control the moon pool; we can control the water, when we cannot control our own minds.  We talk about everything we think of – the unforgiving silence, the horrors of naps and Medbay, even how hard it is to eat after the harsh conditioning we received from malnutrition not so long ago.  This solitary life is not what we were made for.  We were made to run and play and sing and work – just like everybody else.

            "But we're not.  We're the ones on SeaQuest who know the pains of beatings and anorexia or bulimia, who remember how dark and scary closets can be, who know the reaper loves to flirt with them.  None of us can forget the people who our childhoods, who stole our innocence and nailed it to the wall for us to see.

            "The descent to hell is easy.  It's the path our mothers and fathers took every time they raised a fist, slammed something blunt and heavy into our guts, spilt in our blood.  It's a treacherous path, a dangerous path, one bathed in our blood – the blood of the innocent.  Our brothers and sisters, who were victims of our parents and of fate, could only comfort or be comforted.

            "We've all learned the pointlessness of tears.  No matter how many are shed, how many times they've been shed, they never help.  All they do is create more pain.  And if there's one thing we don't need, it's more pain.  I've seen my blood, I've seen it so many times that I've become oblivious to cuts and scrapes.  I don't notice them unless someone points it out – and even then I don't feel it.

            "I've learned to use work to keep me from feeling anything.  Act like a jerk, confuse people by being a human paradox – it all works.  I just don't act they way I truly am.  I can be sweet and kind.  I can be a perfect person, a perfect member of the crew – if I wanted.  All of us could be, if we had any desire to do so.  Crocker always calls us "incompetent" or "Unreliable", but we take no heed anymore, because he doesn't know.  He doesn't know us, or our pasts.  We really could care less about those who facilitated our pain.

            "Bridger…He's one of us.  He'll never say it.  He'd probably deny it from here to forever if we could even ask him.  Then again, none of us have too.  It still lingers in his ageless eyes.  Bridger's managed to move past it – just as Westphalen has.  We can tell that hers was temporary.  At our gatherings, we often speculate if it was one of her husbands…perhaps a boyfriend…a teacher or a coach…maybe her stepfather.  We'll never know whom, so we're stuck with the only thing we've ever been allowed – our wonder, our imaginations.

            "And so my babbling has probably bored you.  I think here is good place as any to stop, as my friends are slowly trickling in for our nightly meeting to rise from hell and breathe the air of peace for a short while."

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*Just FYI: This may not necessarily be an ELF.*

Cassie Jamie

noahXfiles@aol.com 


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